The Lunatic in the Asylum
by Insane Elven Pirate
Summary: Zack meets a schizophrenic patient in the mental institution who claims to have been framed for her crime. Can Brennan and her team find proof of her innocence or will a killer get away with murder? Casefic. AU Season 4, I guess. NOT an OC romance!
1. White

**Title: The Lunatic in the Asylum**

**Author: Insane Elven Pirate **

**Rating: T, 'cuz that's how the show's rated. **

**Summary: Zack meets a patient in the mental institution who claims to have been framed for murder. The only problem is nobody will believe her becasue she is a schizophrenic. Can Brennan and her team find proof of her innocence or will a killer get away with murder? (Casefic)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, and I am in no way affiliated with Bones or its creators/writers/directers/crew/etc.**

**Author's Note: If you notice any errors, PLEASE feel free to point them out so I can fix them. I do read over my works, but sometimes I'm not very thorough.**

**Also, as far as the scientific stuff goes I try to do my research, but if you notice any errors, please be gentle! I'm trying! Oh, and as far as the asylum go, I tried to do some research as to what it would be like for criminals, but I couldn't find much. So as much as I hate to do it, I'm kinda just... guessing. Please forgive any errors.**

**Enjoy! The more reviews I get, the faster I will post new chapters so hit that button! And if you people like the fic enough, I have ideas for several sequals! :)**

**Also, the summary may change. I'm not sure if it describes the story well enough.**

- - -

White. Everything was white. Except for the bars. They were silver.

Zachary Uriah Addy lay on his white bed staring up at the white ceiling. The smell of disinfectant that constantly lingered in the air made his nose itch, and he rubbed at it absent-mindedly. A faint cry echoed down the hall, so pitiful and helpless it would have made him cringe if he weren't so used to it by now.

There was nothing to do here but stare and study the patterns made by the cracks in the paint on the walls and ceiling. This morning they had moved him to a new room (the old one had a plumbing issue,) so now he had new cracks to study. Before, in his old life as Dr. Zack Addy, forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian, he might have been bored by such meaningless pasttimes. But that life was gone. A fading memory, nothing more. Now he was Dr. Zack Addy, just another lost soul at the Fairview Asylum.

His days here were pretty monotonous. He followed a strict schedule. At 6 AM every morning, a gaurd would enter his room to wake him up. They would lead him down to the communal bathroom where he would shower, get dressed, brush his teeth and comb his hair all while being watched by three gaurds and surrounded by several other patients. Privacy didn't exist in a place like this. His gaurd would then retrieve him and walk him to the cafeteria where he would eat breakfast. They would chain his feet to the table, which was bolted to the floor. The patients were arranged so that they sat no less than five feet apart from each other. After sevuring him, the gaurd would bring him his breakfast and morning medications. The gaurd would watch him take the medication, and then he'd be required to open his mouth and lift his tongue so the gaurd could shne a flashlight in his mouth to ensure that he had swallowed the pills. Then he'd be allowed to eat. They served the same lumpy, tasteless porridge every day except for Sunday. On Sunday, he got to choose between pancakes and french toast.

After breakfast came alone time in his room. After determining that he wasn't a threat to himself, his psychiatrist had given him a spiral bound notebook and a pen to use as a journal. She had told him he could use it to write down his thoughts and sort things out with himself. He didn't use it much. At 10 AM on Tusdays, Thursadays, and Saturdays he had his appoitment with Dr. Litner. She would ask him questions and he would nod or shake his head in response. He never spoke during those sessions. He never spoke to anyone here. His silence was like a fortress, protecting him from what he didn't want to face. When his session was over at 11, the gaurd would return him to his room. He would remain there until noon, when they brought him back to the cafeteria for lunch. There, the gaurd would bring him whatever they were serving for lunch that day, usually something that had once been food, but had been slowly cooked until it lost all flavor. Usually he ate it without much thought, but sometimes he would find himself longing for the macaroni he used to eat on a daily basis.

Visiting hours started after lunch. Mostly he would just spend this time in his room, but sometimes one of his friends would visit. Dr. Brennan had visited once, accompanied by Booth. Booth hadn't said anything to him at all and Dr. Brennan had just asked him things like how he was doing and if he was being taken care of, but that was fine.

Angela visited the most, five times total. Her visits were the nicest. She would smile and tell him about things that were happening back at the Jeffersonian. It almost made him feel as if he were still included.

Dr. Saroyan had visited twice, though both times had been for the sole purpose of dropping off stuff for him, so she hadn't stayed for more than five minutes. The first time she brought him a box of his stuff that had been at the lab. The second time she had brought him a pair of black gloves and a stack of books, mostly books on mathmatics principles and theories, but there was also a book entitled _Artemis Fowl_, which Dr. Saroyan had said he might enjoy as a bit of light reading. So far he hadn't opened any of them. He did wear the gloves, though. He rarely took them off.

Hodgins hadn't visited at all.

During the visits, Zach never made eye contact and spoke very little. It felt intensely strange to talk with the people he had once worked with, while he sat cuffed to a cold metal chair that, like everything else in the facility, was bolted to the floor. Despite all this, though, he found himself craving the times when the gaurd would enter his room, telling him he had a visitor. Unfortunately, these moments were occuring less and less frequently.

At 3 PM a nurse would bring him his afternoon pills. She would watch him while he took them, and just like in the morning, he would obediantly open his mouth and lift his tongue so that she could make sure he had swallowed them. Then he would wait until 6PM, when dinner was served. He was led back to the cafeteria, served dinner, and then escorted back to his room for more time alone. He had a lot of that here. Finally, at 10 PM, the nurse would come in, give him a sleeping pill, check that he had swallowed, and the gaurd would lock the door to his room after she left. He would fall into dreamless, drug-induced sleep before waking up the next morning when the whole routine would start again.

It had taken some adjusting to, but he had gracefully fallen into the routine rather quickly. And once he had grown accustomed to it, had found a strange sense of peace in it's reptetiveness.

Until the routine was broken.

The clock bolted to the wall stated that it was 2:13 PM. He was lying on top of his matress staring at the cracks on the ceiling of his new room. He was thinking about anything and everything to keep his mind off of why he was here.

The knocking started softly at first, just three quite taps on the left wall which his bed was pressed up against. _tap tap tap._ Then again, a little louder. _Tap Tap Tap. _Again, louder still. _Tap Tap Tap!_ This kept up until whoever was in the room got fed up with it and finally spoke. "Hey!" The voice was hushed, a whisper, but it sounded female. "I know you're in there!"

Zach didn't respond. He was used to hearing cries and the occasional screams from his neighbors, but they had never tried communicating with him.

"Why don't you answer me?" The voice was impatient, demanding. "Ohhh... I get it... You're that new guy. The one that never talks."

Zach turned his head to stare at the wall. He wasn't aware that the other patients had even noticed him, much less that he had a reputation for never talking.

"Is it true that you eat people?" Zach flinched at the question, trying to ignore the pain it brought.

It was silent for a while. The question hung heavily in the air, it's weight boring down on him. He wanted desperately to protest it, to correct the assumption it made. But he hadn't spoken to anyone here since his arrival. Could he break his silence for this? Finally, after long deliberation, he spoke, slowly and uncomfortably, "I didn't actually eat anyone..."

The voice seemed excited that he had said something, and eagerly pressed for more, "Yeah, but you would've eventually, right?"

Zach didn't respond this time. Instead, he rolled over, facing away from the wall. The woman in the next room kept trying to get him to say something else, but when it was clear he wasn't going to respond, she eventually gave up.

- - -

**Ok, I know this first chapter is short. I actually have a LOT more written, this is really just a teaser that I'm posting because I've reached a bit of a standstill. I figured I'd keep posting small portions to give me a break until I figure out how I want to continue. It's hard writing casefics. **


	2. The Man In The Black Suit

**Here's chapter two! Enjoy!**

- - -

After dinner, Zack sat in bed, his back uncomfortably pressed against the metal frame. His knees were pulled in close to his chest, and the journal Dr. Litner had given him leaned against his legs. He used his left hand to hold the journal steady and in his write hand he gripped a ball-point pen. The burns had mostly healed, leaving behind angry red scars that spread across his hands and served as a constant reminder for what he had done. Thanks to his surgeons, most of the nerve and tissue damage had been repaired, however, he would have to relearn basic motor funtions, and his grip would never be as strong as it had once been. He wore the gloves given to him by Dr. Saroyan. He never took them off unless absolutely necessary to avoid seeing the scars which represented wounds that went far deeper than skin.

Slowly, and carefully, he moved the pen across the paper, slowly and meticulously forming letters. A... B... C... The lines were formed clumsily and his hands shook with the effort, making the characters appear they were written by a kindergartner. But still, he diligently continued his task, knowing it was important. G... H... I...

"I'm not supposed to be here, ya know." The voice startled him, causing the pen to make a jagged line down the middle of his paper. Now that the voice was louder, speaking in a normal volume instead of the whisper he had heard before, he guessed that it belonged to a woman, probably older, between thirty and thirty-five years old.

He contemplated whether or not to respond. He had made a vow not to talk to anyone, for fear of what he might say, but so long as he was careful, what harm could it do to converse with a fellow patient? "What do you mean you're not supposed to be here? Are you not mentally ill?"

There was a pause. "I... don't know. But I certainly didn't kill anyone!" Her voice was hoarse, a possible result of frequent screaming or shouting.

"I do not understand. If you're here, you must be a criminal. This is an institute for the criminally insane."

"Are _you_ a criminal?"

Zach didn't respond.

"I can tell you're not. I've seen you in the lunchroom. You don't have a killers eyes. You couldn't have done what they say you did."

"A person's eyes are not an indicator of whether or not they commited a crime."

"I can tell! You're not a killer."

"But it's just not possible. The eyes do not in any way reflect a person's personality. Things that people attribute to this effect, such as width, shape, size, color and overall appearance are a result of a person's genetics, not who they are or what they've done."

"...I can tell."

"No, you can't. It is illogocal to assume so."

There was a short lauigh from his neighbor. "Do you always rely on logic?"

"Yes."

"And yet somehow you wound up among the crazy, where logic has no purpose."

"The clinically insane are not as illogical as they are assumed-."

"And tell me," she cut him of, "Was it your logic that brought you here?"

"...Yes."

"I _believe _that that is what you would call ironic."

Zack didn't answer.

After a brief silence the woman spoke up. "...My name's Amanda."

"I'm Dr. Zack Addy."

"Would it be alright if I just called you Zack?"

"I suppose..." He then asked the question that had been bugging him since she had asked if he ate people the day before. "How do you know so much about me?"

"My family brings me the paper when they visit. There were a couple of articles about you."

"Oh... I see..."

There was no response from the other side of the wall. After five minutes Zach was beginning to wonder if that was all his neighbor had wanted to say when she spoke again. "I didn't do it."

"You did not do what?"

"They say I killed someone."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Who says you killed someone?"

"Everybody. But I didn't do it! It's just... No one will believe me. They all think I'm crazy. That I'm making it up. But I'm not! I didn't kill her!"

Zack's old instincts started to kick in. This was a puzzle. A murder. He used to help solve murders. He found himself staring at the wall in eager curiosity as he shifted his positition so he could put a pillow behind his back and sit more comfortably.

As if she could sense that she had his attention, Amanda continued her story. "Back at the institution where I used to live, we weren't confined to our rooms 24/7. And visitors could visit any time during the day except for the early morning and late evening. There was a man who had been there about a month. I'm not entirely sure why he was comitted. Anytime someone asked, he'd change the story. He lied a lot. He was a liar. You can't trust liars." Her voice sounded angry and she paused. Zack heard her take a deep breath before starting again.

"Anyways, he had this girlfriend. She visited almost every day. One night I was woken up by a muffled cry. I opened my door, just a crack, to see what was going on. I saw her, right outside my door. I don't know what she was doing there so late at night. She shouldn't have been there. She tried to let the nurses make her stay later once, but they didn't let her. 'Rules are rules' they said, and they didn't let her stay." As she told the story, her words became more and more frantic. "She was pressed agaist the wall across form my room. He had one hand over her mouth to keep her from yelling. In his other hand he held a knife. He stabbed her several times until she was dead. I shut my door. I was afraid. I tried to keep him out. I tried to keep him out, but he was stronger. So much stronger." Her voice was shaking now. "He came into my room and he gave me the knife. 'They'll think you did it,' He said. He was smiling." She raised her voice. "He was taunting me! 'They'll think you did it. You have to hide the evidence.' Then he just left. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared, I didn't know what else to do! I didn't want them to think I did it..." There was a brief moment of silence, and when she began her story again, her voice was clearer, more controlled.

"There was a laundry shoot at the end of the hall. I dragged her body over to it and threw it down. I threw in my clothes and the knife after her and went back to my room. I didn't sleep that night. The next morning the nurses started screaming. Such an awful, horrified sound. The police came and arrested me. They said they found fingerprints on the knife. There was a trial. It didn't last very long. The man they assigned to me as my lawyer told me there was too much evidence against me. That I should plead guilty. He was a smart man, so I listened to him. After that, they brought me here.."

"But... you didn't do it?" Zack asked.

"No. The Man In The Black Suit did."

- - -

Zack spent the next hour or so staring at the wall, turning over what he had heard in his mind. Finally, as if reaching some conclusion, he looked over his clock. It was almost eight, almost two hours until it was time to go to bed. That should be enough time for what he needed to do. He grabbed his journal from where he had put it on his nightstand and ripped out a clean page. Putting the paper on top of the journal and resting the journal on his knees, he began to write slowly and carefully.

D... e... a... r... D... r... B... r... e... n... n... a... n...

- - -

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at her desk eating a late lunch. As she stirred her chicken pot pie, thouroughly mixing the crust in with the bits of chicken and vegetables,she sorted through that day's delievry of mail. Most of it was just requests from various colleges, inviting her to give lectures on her specialty to their students. These she put in a pile with many others she had already recieved to go through later. In the middle of the pile was a check from her publishers for her portion of the previous month's sales. This she put in her purse, intending to cash it later that evening. There were several advertisements for various things. These she quickly glanced at before throwing them into the trash. At the very bottom of the pile was a letter. Glancing at the top left corner, Brennan paused. Fairview Asylum. The same institution where her former student Zack Addy now lived.

Opening the thin middle drawer on her desk, Dr. Brennan grabbed her letter opener. Quickly tearing open the envelope, she pulled out the piece of paper that was inside. The row of tiny holes on it's left edge indicated that it was a page torn from a spiral bound notebook. As she unfolded the letter, her brow furrowed in confusion. The writing was messy and illegible. She couldn't make out a single word. Pushing a pile of papers on her desk aside, she pulled her desk lamp closer, as if better lighting might help her decipher the contents of the letter.

She was so intent on figuring out what was written in the letter that she didn't even look up when a sharp knocking on ther door to her office announced the arrival of Special Agent Seeley Booth. "Bones! Come on!" he cried, poking his head into the office. "We have a case. Let's go!" Instead of getting up, as Agent Booth clearly expected her to, Dr. Brennan kept staring at the letter. "Bones!" Booth said again, this time a little louder. When Dr. Brennan looked up at him, he said. "We have a case."

"Huh?" Dr. Brennan asked, slowly processing what he had said. "Oh. Ok..." she said distractedly, slowly getting up from her desk, still looking at the letter. "Just a moment."

"Bones?" Agent Booth asked as Dr. Brennan quickly swept by him. He quickly ran after her. "Hey Bones! Where ya going?"

Dr. Brennan didn't respond.

"Bones, we have a case. You know. A body. A murder. That we need to solve. Together. Now, let's go. I'll take you to the crime scene, let you do your thing, then you tell me who the bad guy is, so I can do my thing and arrest him. That's how this works. You don't go running all over the lab ignoring me! We work together! As a team! And you know what they say, there's no 'I' in team."

Dr. Brennan looked over her shoulder at the man who was rambling on behind her. "Booth, I'll be with you in a moment, I just have to take care of this one thing first."

Booth sighed. "Fine."

Dr. Brenna found Angela Montenegro in her office, sketching a face for a 600 year old skull sent to the museum from South America. When Brennan and Booth walked in, she looked up. "Hey, Sweetie." she said with a small smile, "Wow. Somebody looks cranky today," she commented nodding towards Booth.

"Oh, he's just upset because he wants to arrest people," Brennan stated, with a nonchalant shrug.

"What? No! Bones! That's not what this is about!" Booth protested. "It's about you! You don't talk to me, anymore!"

Brennan turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. "What are you talking about? We talk."

"No. No, Bones, I do all the talking. You just run around and do your own thing without saying a word."

Brennan put a hand on her hip. "That is completely untrue. Whenever I say anything, you complain that it's too 'squinty' for you!"

"That's because you use these ridculous words, like tibia and sternum and falanges! It's a bone, Bones, just call it a bone!"

Brennan scoffed. "What is your problem? You-"

Their argument was interrupted by a loud cough from Angela. "What?!" they cried in unison, as they both turned to look at her."

"Whoa," Angela said, putting her hands up in a defensive position. "Calm down, you two. Did you guys come her just to argue, or was there something you needed, 'cuz if it was just to argue I'd _really_ appreciate if you could do that somewhere else."

"I'm sorry, Angela." Brennan said, sighing. "I wanted to know if you could tell me what this is." She held out the letter to Angela, who took it and looked it over.

"It looks like a letter... from someone with _very_ messy handwriting," she observed raising an eyebrow. "Do you knwo who it's from?"

"I think..." Dr. Brennan paused and took a deep breath, "I think it's from Zack."

When she said the word, the atmosphere in the room immediately changed, becoming tenser, as it always did when Zack's name was spoken.

Though Brennan's team seemed to be back to normal, in reality, they were all just living under a facade. As long as they could forget Zack, they could pretend that they were alright. But his name and all the painful memories that came with it was enough of a reminder of what had occured. It had already been two months, but still the ache hadn't dulled. If anything, it intensified with time.

Everyone was handling their pain in their own different way. Brennan had become withdrawn, never talking unless it was strictly business and something to do with her work. Angela wasn't nearly quite as cheerful as she had once been, and her smiles were becoming more and more forced. Hodgins became absorbed in his work and angered much easier than he used to. Dr. Saroyan was constantly bitter and sometimes took her anger out on the wring people. Even Booth, who hadn't worked very closely with Zack, and had ignored him on the occasions when they did work together, was affected.

Angela cleared her throat and nodded. "That would make sense. His hands. He got hurt really badly." The rest of the sentance went unspoken. _We all did._

Dr Brennan nodded. "Can you tell me what it says?"

Angela looked at the letter again. "I can try and figure it out. I'll try running it through a program. It will take some time, though."

"Oh, for goodness sakes!" Booth exclaimed, taking the letter from Angela. "You squints overcomplicate everything." He looked at the letter, cleared his throat and began to read.

_Dear Dr. Brennan,_

_I met a woman here at the institute who is here for murdering someone she says she didn't kill. I believe her to be telling the truth. Could you possibly check it out the first available oppurtunity?_

_Signed,_

_Dr. Zack Addy_

Booth looked up from the letter to see the two woman looking at him. "What? I have a six year old son."

"Is that really all it says?" Angela asked.

"It makes sense," Brennan said, taking the letter from Booth, "Writing's hard for him now, he can't be wordy."

"Okay, great!" Booth exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Now that we know what the letter says, let's go! We have a crime scene to check out! We were supposed to be there ten minutes ago, so we'd better hurry."

"Yeah..." Dr. Brennan responded slowly, as she followed Booth out of the building and into the parking garage.

In the garage, Booth found his way to his SUV and pushed the button on his key ring to unlock the doors. "Ok, Bones," he began, grabbing the door handle to pull it open. "The body..." he trailed off as he realised Dr. Brennan wasn't with him. He ran out into the middle of the parking lot to look for her and almost got run over as she sped towards the garage exit in her silver mercedes. Fortunately, though, she screeched to a halt just inches away from his legs.

Dr. Brennan rolled down her window and stuck her head out. "Booth, what are the hell you doing?!" she cried angrily. "I could've killed you!"

"I could ask you the same thing!" he retorted, walking to the driver's window. "We have a crime scene, Bones, where are you going?"

"I'm visiting Zack," Brennan replied, as if it should have been obvious.

Booth blinked at her. "Why?"

"He asked me to, Booth!"

Booth threw his hands into the air. "So what? So what if he asked you, Bones! You don't owe him anything."

"Yes I do, Booth!" Brennan cried, desperately. "Yes I do! I... I failed him! I failed him both as a mentor and as a friend!"

"Bones..." Booth said softly, leaning down so his face was level with hers. "You didn't fail him." He shook his head. "If anything, he failed you. Helping him now isn't going to make up for what happened."

"I..." Dr. Brennan turned her gaze away from Booth and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "I have to, Booth."

Agent Booth studied her for a few seconds more before heaving a deep sigh. He made his way around the car to the passenger side door and slid into to the tiny sports car. He grabbed his keys from his pocket and pointed the remote at his SUV. A loud beep signalled that the doors had locked and Booth stuffed the keys back into his pocket before grabbing his seat belt and buckling himself in. He turned to Dr. Brennan and nodded his head. "Drive."

Bones gave him a small smile. "Thanks..." she said softly, before they sped out of the parking garage.

- - -

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	3. Reunion

**New chapter! Enjoy! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and/or added it to their alerts and favorites! :)**

- - -

Dr. Zack Addy fidgeted in his chair nervously. At 3:37 a gaurd had entered his room and announced that he had visitors. He led him down the hall (two lefts and then a right) to the visiting rooms. There he had secured him in the uncomfortable hall metal chair before steping outside and using a phone to contact the visitors office, telling the receptionist there that Zack was ready. He _wasn't_ ready of course. He didn't know if he truly ever would be. The morning dosage of drugs had already worn off, and the dose they gave him a half hour ago had yet to take effect, so he now squirmed in his chair, his nerves an unhealthy mixture of worry and excitement. His senses became acutely aware of everything, from the _tick-tick-ticking_ of the clock, to the insatiable itch caused by the leather cuffs securing him to the chair. When he heard the voices coming from down the hall, he quickly turned his head to the window, staring to see who was coming. Could it really be Dr. Brennan? When had he sent that letter? He wasn't positive with the way time seemed to pass both too slowly and too quickly in here, but he thought it had only been three days ago. Could she really have come so soon?

As the voices grew louder and distinct enough that Zack could make out what they were saying and there was no doubt as to who they belonged to.

"...really don't think that this is a good idea, Bones!" Booth's voice carried down the hall.

"Then you shouldn't have come." Dr. Brennan responded, sounding annoyed.

"Well, it's not like you left me much of a choice, since you insisted on coming."

"That doesn't mean that you had to come, you could have gone on to your crime scene."

"It is not _my _crime scene, Bones. And there's not much point in me being there without you."

"That's flattering, Booth, but I think you're a big enough boy to go to crime scene by yourself."

"Wait, was that a joke? Because I didn't know you were capable of making one."

"Oh, very funny."

"I'm serious!"

The voices stopped outside the door to Zack's visiting room, and he began to wonder if they were ever going to enter when the door opened. Dr. Brennan walked in and sat down, followed by agent Booth who leaned against the wall behind Dr. Brennan.

For the first few minutes there was an awkward silence, where Zack kept his eyes averted to the ground and Dr. Brennan stared to the side uncomfortably. It was only broken when Agent Booth cleared his throat and nodded for Brennan to get on with what she came her to do.

Dr. Brennan sighed, unsure how to start. She settled for simply getting Zack to talk in an effort to diffuse the tension that filled the room, making her uneasy.

"So, Zack," she began, "How are you?"

Zack's eyes flickered up before dropping back down when he saw she was looking at him. He paused to consider the question, and in that pause the tension grew thicker, almost transforming it into something tangible. "I'm fine, I suppose," he said slowly, and Dr. Brennan mentally cursed herself for how stupid the question was, given his situation.

"Are you eating well?" she asked next. Zack only nodded in response. She pressed harder, trying to get him to open up. "What do you think of your doctors?" In the back of her mind she noted briefly that the questions sounded like those that a mother might ask, but quickly pushed the thought away.

Zack finally looked up at her then, his brows knitting together in confusion. "But Dr. Brennan," he said carefully, "...You don't believe in psychology."

Dr. Brennan struggled to find the right response. When she had spoken to her when Zack was first admitted, Zack's doctor had stressed how important it was that friends and family encouraged him to be open to psychology as a means of treatment. "Well, that's not exactly true..." she started slowly.

"Yes it is. It's a soft science," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," she agreed, nodding her head slowly, "It's true that I don't believe it's possible for someone to be able to learn as much about a person based strictly on behavior as psychology claims to be able to. Behavior isn't always consistent from day to do, things like mood, stress level, and even the weather can influence the way someone acts, and yet psychologists make diagnoses based on this ever-changing criteria. And then there are psychologists who claim that early child developement can alter who a person is later in life enough to account for any mental problems they might have. For example, not all people who have bad parents become killers, and not all people who are killers have bad parents, like y-" _Like you._

"Like the Unabomber!" Booth interrupted, realizing what Brennan was about tho say. "Great parents. Really nice people."

Suddenly immensely grateful for Booth's presence behind her, Brennan nodded. "Yes, the Unabomber. Theodore Kaczynski."

"Ted."

"What?"

"They call him Ted Kaczynski, not Theodore."

"Oh, right." Brennan hoped that Zack wouldn't noticed her mistake. Glancing at him out of the corner of hert eyes, she saw him looking between her and Booth, a questioning look on his face, indicating he realized she she had been about to say something diffrent, but that he didn't know what.

"Look, kid," Booth said, walking around the table and squatting so he was eye level with Zack. "Maybe you and Bones are right about psychiatry, maybe it is a soft science that can't be taken seriously when it comes to making a diagnosis, I don't know. What I _do_ know is this: psychiatry _can_ help people. It's helped me! There are times when you _think_ you're okay, but then something happens or something goes wrong like..." Booth gestured vaguely trying to find the right example.

"Like shooting a clown!" Brennan suggested helpfully.

Booth shot Brennan a glare but ran with the example anyways, "Yes, like... shooting a clown, and then you find out that you're not as okay as you thought, and that you shot the clown because of seem deeper, inner problem."

Zack looked confused. "But I didn't shoot a clown."

Booth sighed. "It was just an example."

"Then I do not follow."

"Okay, ki- Zack. I'm gonna give this to you straight. You killed someone and you helped a serial killer. That shows that you're not as okay as we all thougt. But psychiatry can help you. You shouldn't let what Bones thinks about it stop you from getting the help you need."

Zack nodded slowly. "I see."

Booth gave him a tight-lipped smile. Remembering when Zack had first gotten his doctorate and Bones had asked him to pat him on the shoulder with an open palm, Booth dis the same thing now. Back then, when he had still found Zack annoying it had seemed to please him, and Booth hoped it would have the same effect now.

Suddenly the door opened and the gaurd who was standing outside came in to glare at Booth. "Sir, please step away from the patient. It's not safe for you to stand so close to him."

"Zack's not dangerous!" Dr. Brennan protested angrily.

"Bones, it's okay," Booth said, straightening up. "I'm sorry." He walked around the table and sat in the chair next to Dr. Brennan.

The gaurd gave them one last suspicious glance before stepping outside the room aqnd closing the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Booth chuckled lightly, "Guess he's gonna start keeping a close eye on us, in case we do something dangerous again, eh, Bones?"

"Yeah," Brennan said awkwardly.

A strained silence filled the room until Booth, seeing that this wasn't going to go anywhere, decided to move things forward. "Zack, we got your letter," he said, folding his hands together on the table in front of him.

Zack nodded. "I assumed that was why you had come." When he spoke, there was a barely detectable slur to his words that hadn't been there before.

Dr. Brennan cleared her throat. "You..." She reached into her pocket to pull out the letter and unfolded. "You didn't say much."

"Yes, I apologize. Writing is more difficult for me now than it was. I have to relearn the muscle movents required to hold a pen and form letters," Zack replied, staring down at his gloved hands.

"Yes, I thought that might have been the case." Brennan nodded in understanding. "Can you tell us about this woman?"

"Um..." Zack looked uncomfortable. "She's in the room next to mine. She spoke to me through the wall which is on my left when I am laying in my bed, meaning that from the outside, her room would be to the right of mine, but I don't really know much about her."

"Do you know her name?" Booth asked, hopefully.

"Yes. Her name is Amanda."

"Amanda who?"

"I don't know. She only told me her first name."

"So... You don't even know who this woman is?" Booth asked for clarification.

"...No..." Zack said slowly.

Booth sighed and massaged his temples. "I told you this was a waste of time," he whispered to Dr. Brennan out of the corner of his mouth.

Dr. Brennan glared up at her partner. "We don't know that yet!" she hissed back.

"Bones, this girl Zack wants us to help is just some lunatic! I'm sure over half the people here think that they shouldn't be here for one reason or another."

With an angry sigh at Booth, Dr. Brennan turned back to Zack. "Can you at least tell me what she told you?" she asked.

Zack nodded, seeming to draw confidence from finally being asked a question he could answer. "She told me that she was staying at another institute prior to this one that was less strict in its handling of patients. There was another patient there, a man, who..."

"Whoa, Zack, Zack!" Booth interrupted. Zack looked up at him curiously. "We don't need the set-up, just tell us about the murder."

Zack nodded. "Okay..." He turned back to Dr. Brennan. "The victim was the girlfriend of a another patient in the ward," he explained. "Amanda told me that on the night of the murder, the girlfriend remained in the ward after visiting hours." As he spoke, Zack's words became more and more slurred. "In the middle of the night a noise awakened Amanda from her sleep. She went to her door to see who it was and witnessed the murder. She said that the girl was killed by a man wearing black. The man told her... " he paused and shook his head, as if to clear it, before starting again. "The man told her that if she didn't hide the evidence, people would think... think that she was the one who committed the murder, so she threw the body down... down a laundry shoot."

When Zack finished his story, he looked exausted from the effort. Brennan looked at him with a worried expression as she tried to swallow the lump that was building in her throat. This had to be a result of drugs given to him by the mental institution. She knew they were standard procedure to keep the patients from acting out, but that didn't make it any easier to look at.

Trying to put these thoughts from her mind, Brennan leaned forward. "Zack, it could be possible that this woman did kill the victim. Her story of the man in black may just be a delusion she created to deal with feelings of guilt that accompanied the murder."

Zack blinked at her hazily. "I... I do... do realize... that," he mumbled, clearly having difficulty concentrating.

Brennan looked into the eyes of her former grad student, wanting to understand why he had called her here. "Can you tell me why you believe her, then?"

"She..." he blinked several times as if trying to focus his eyes and swayed in his chair. "I bel... believe her..." He was interrupte by a sharp knocking on the door.

The gaurd, who had been watching through the window on the door, stepped in. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the patient needs rest now," he said.

Dr. Brennan nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea," she said, rising from her chair. "...It was nice seeing you, Zack."

Zack looked up at her, his eyes drooping slightly. "Thank you... for coming... Dr. Brennan," he said slowly, "Agent Booth." He turned to the agent and gave him a small nod.

Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth said their goodbyes and then walked out the door as the gaurd went over to Zack to start undoing his cuffs. Halfway down the hall, Dr. Brennan turned to see Zack stumbling out of the room and being led by the gaurd in the opposite direction down the hall. She turned around, a pianed expression on her face, and followed Agent Booth out of the cool building.

When they got outside, Booth paused to breath in the clean air. "Wow." he said contentedly. "It sure is nice out today, isn't it?" he asked, as he turned to Brennan with a grin on his face. His face fell when he saw the troubled epression on her face. "Bones..." he said, " I know it's hard-" he started, but was cut off by Dr. Brennan before he could finish.

"I _hate _this!" she cried.

"I know," Booth nodded sympathetically, "But Bones-"

"I know he's a killer, and I know he should be locked up, and I know that this is better for him than jail, but I really hate this!" she continued, as if Booth hadn't spoken. "I hate what this place is doing to him! Did you see him? Did you see him in there?" She gestured wildly to the building. "They had him pumped so full of drugs that he couldn't even think! It's... It's..." She ran her hands through her hair and sat down heavily on a bench. In a quieter voice than befopre she said, "It's destroying him."

Booth sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "Coume here," he said, as he pulled her towards him. He spoke quietly and began rubbing her arm. "I know this situation is hard. It just... Well, it sucks. It completely sucks. But... you can't change what happened."

"How _did _it happen?" Brennan asked, her voice cracking. "I mean... He's _Zack_. He was my grad student. He's one of the most brilliant people that I know. He learned so fast. I was so... _proud_ to have him as my student. How... How did he go from being Zack... my Zack... to becoming a murderer?"

Booth heaved a deep sigh. "I don't know. I guess it's like Sweets said. Zack had the weaker personality and Gormagon manipulated him. Made him believe he was doing the right thing."

"But he was already doing the right thing. He was catchung murders." She paused. "Wasn't that enough? I thought... I thought he was..." her voice choked and she was unable to finish.

Booth held her closer, "I know Bones. I thought so too. We all did."

They sat like for a while until Bones finally pulled away, sniffing. "Thanks, Booth," she said, giving the agent a small smile.

Booth nodded. "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

Brennan looked up at him. "I want to talk to Zack's doctor. See if we can find out who Amanda is."

"Okay," Booth agreed, getting up from the bench.

"...You're not going to tell me this case is a waste of time?" Brennan asked, mildly surprised.

Booth gave her a small smile and shook his head. "No."

Brennan smiled back. "Okay," she said, getting up from the bench and leading the way into the building.

- - -

**That's all for now! Review please?**


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